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Credited to Londonpalace13.


Author's note: Okay. This is a Gorillaz creepypasta and bonus: My first creepypasta as well! And also, author's note: I was going to add the accents [like spelling Murdoc as Muh'doc in 2D's speech, cause that's literally how it sounds] but I felt like people would scream at me for doing so, so I didn't.


"My heart is in economy, due to this autonomy.."

The bluenette sang, Murdoc death staring every single inch of his body, terrifying Stuart to death as always. It happened every time they were recording a song.. especially on this "plastic prison," as Stuart would call it. Murdoc always had his eye on the boy. Any moment he looked away, Stuart could possibly jolt off and try to escape or break Cyborg Noodle... or both.

"I'm just, rollin' in and caught again.. Ca-a-a-aught agAIn..!!"

He stumbled and fidgeted with the mic. Stuart's voice had cracked as he sang. "O-oh shit," He thought to himself. He had completely stopped singing and Murdoc's eyes met with his. Those mismatched eyes full of enmity, fury, impatience, and especially pure hellfire. The bassist's eyes narrowed with a very wide frown spreading across his face. The pure hatred in his eyes grew deeper.

"Sweet fucking Satan, 2D. Of course you'd go on and mess it up again! How many times have we tried to record this now? A fucking billion?!" As Murdoc went on and on, Stuart couldn't help but start tearing up. He tightened his grip on the microphone, like he was tightening his grip on Murdoc's throat. Wait, what? He slowly closed his eyes. It was everything he could do to try and block out Murdoc's endless rambling and negativity.

"All you ever do is mess shit up, faceache. It's all you--...." He was walking into the booth as he noticed Stuart's eyes watering. "Are you about to fucking cry? Ya damn pansy!" Murdoc proceeded to slap the boy right across the face. This only made a loud yelp and sob come from the singer, stumbling back and falling onto the ground.

He looked up at Murdoc and was now crying. The bassist was now bullying the hell out of Stuart for doing so, even kicking the poor singer's torso a couple of times and proceeding to make fun of how skinny and weak he was. "You're not even gonna insult me back, huh? Fucking pathetic. Pathetic and useless, that's all you are, 2D. Only good for your voice."

Stuart was just laying there crying and silently letting the Satanist kick the shit out of him and beat him senseless. All he wanted to do was grab Murdoc's leg and twist it until it fucking broke, then stab the bassist in the throat as much as he could with the broken shards of one of his beer bottles, letting all the blood slowly drain out of him. Huh?

After a while, Murdoc finally got bored of torturing and bullying Stuart. Stuart now had a bloody nose, bruises all over his torso, and a horribly destroyed ego.

"Alright, get up, 2D," Murdoc said as he grabbed the boy's shirt and forcefully yanked him up, Stuart barely gaining his balance and almost falling over as he did. "You're not gonna be fed for a long time."

Stuart's stomach dropped as he heard him say that. He was already starving at the moment, and only fed twice a day in his room. He almost wanted to ask, "How long is 'a long time'?" but was afraid he would be back-handed if he did, and then never fed again.

The singer shakily but silently nodded, just wanting to be alone in his room again. Away from the most horrible creature in his life. Away from everything else in life. Murdoc forcefully dragged Stuart off to the lift, practically throwing him into it and pressing the button down to his room.

The ride down there felt like an eternity. Stu's whole body was aching, every inch of his body begging for death already.

"At this point," Stuart thought, "death would feel way better than staying another night on this stupid plastic prison.."

The poor boy was probably right. Death would be way better than staying completely isolated in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but an emotionless cyborg version of someone you used to know, and your mental and physical abuser for more than 10 years who you just can't seem to get away from.

...

But how?

Even if Stuart were to plan an escape, there would be no way. Murdoc would gun him down if he tried to escape in the plane, and if he tried to escape in the shark sub, well, Murdoc would also gun him down in that. Even if he did manage to somehow escape from the island, what if the sub or plane ran out of fuel? Then he'd be completely stranded in the middle of the ocean, with no way of asking for help or even sending an S.O.S message. He'd probably end up being slowly devoured by a whale, his biggest fear.

Deep down inside, Stuart didn't really think the island itself was the problem. He loved being away from the rest of society. Honestly, if Murdoc wasn't there and he shut down Cyborg Noodle, he could have the whole island to himself! Then he could try to call for help with Murdoc's shitty internet connection and go through his search history, just for fun. It would also just be really nice, and plenty of time to find himself and get over everything Murdoc has said and recover slowly on a peaceful beach.

All of that... just if Murdoc was gone.

"Only if Murdoc was GONE," He thought to himself as Murdoc shoved him into his room, then slamming the door and returning up the lift. Stuart slowly and weakly walked over to his bed, crawling onto it and slamming his face into his pillow. His stomach growled loudly in pain, begging to be fed at least just a crumb.

As he laid there gripping his stomach, Stuart thought to himself. He got very lost in his thoughts. He thought about murder, suicide, and a murder-suicide. He also thought about Murdoc, and eventually combined all those thoughts together.

"Fucking do it," one of the voices in his head spoke up.

Another voice spoke up, saddened by that statement. "N-no! We can't do it! That's bollocks! We need him!"

"Need him for what? More mental torture? Cause that's all he's giving us."

"Yeah, but he's also giving us food and.. some shelter."

"Yes, but all he will ever do is make fun of you for wanting food and shelter. You have to do it. We have to do it. We can't live like this any longer. There isn't a point."

The voices in Stuart's head rambled on. He didn't know if he was talking to himself, another person, or if two different people in his head were screaming at him or each other at once. He started shaking. His stomach growled again, only making everything worse. He didn't know how to make it stop.

He just wanted it to stop.

................

Stuart had woken up slowly from what little sleep he got, groaning in pain from his stomach. He attempted to sat up but it was no use. He wasn't strong enough. He silently laid there, staring at the ceiling as the voices in his head only got worse.

His skin was paler than usual, with the bags under his eyes only being twice as worse. His hair was in a terrible blue fuzzy mess. He tried pushing some of his hair back behind his ears, and coughed as he did. He hadn't ate, drank, or seen another human being in 3 days. Had Murdoc forgotten about him? Was he even alive anymore?

He wanted to know. He wanted to eat. He wanted to see another human.

All of these wants and needs were driving him crazy. He gathered up the strength to sit up, forcing his weak, scrawny arms to push himself up off of his back. He felt so dizzy, but powered through it. He didn't care what it took. He slowly stood up, his legs shaking furiously. Every step he took felt like he was walking on pins and needles.

It took him around 2 minutes, but he finally made it to the door. He started coughing again and shaking even worse. He held onto the doorknob, suddenly coughing a lot more. He suddenly started dry heaving loudly and eventually started vomiting. He hadn't ate for so long, so the only thing that came out of his poor, fragile stomach were the acids within it.

He vomited for a while and eventually but slowly stopped. He was shaking horribly and almost slipped and fell in his own puke. He was panting like a dog, and sweating like it was 90 degrees in his room.

He had to power through it. He HAD to.

He tried turning the doorknob, but like the dullard he was, it was obviously locked. He groaned and angrily started shaking the knob. Stuart furiously yelled at the doorknob, trying to yank it off, but almost slipping in his vomit again. He screamed and slammed his fist onto the doorknob, causing it to start oozing thick, dark red blood. He had to open it.

Stuart started slamming his fist repeatedly into the doorknob trying to break it off. He was screaming in pain at this, his fist gushing even more thick blood. But finally, FINALLY, the doorknob had broken off. It dropped to the floor in the pool of Stuart's blood and stomach acid. He shakily pushed the door open, trembling terribly as he stepped out of the door.

He started making his way over to the lift, when he silently stopped and questioned himself for a moment. "What am I doing? What if Murdoc's awake? Is Murdoc even still here? Did he leave me to die? He'll kill me, I'm too weak."

But.. for some reason, Stuart went on. He slowly made his way into the lift, staring at the list of buttons on the wall. He stared at the button for Murdoc's room for a while, but then literally punched the button. This only made his fist bleed even worse.

As he waited for what seemed like forever for the lift to rise, his anxiety got even worse. What if Murdoc was in there? What if he was awake? Stuart knew how weak he felt and looked. You could even clearly see his ribs. Murdoc could kill him with only one finger.

As the door of the lift slowly opened, he took a trembling step forward. Then another.. and another.

The bassist was passed out on the floor with empty beer bottles all around him. Stuart sighed of relief, and slowly walked into the room, his stomach still aching. All he wanted to do was eat, but he had no idea where Murdoc kept the food. But, as Stuart stared at Murdoc for a while . . .


He decided he knew what to eat. He had no choice.


The boy slowly walked over to Murdoc who was passed out on the floor. He slowly kneeled down and unbuckled Murdoc's pants, taking the belt and furiously getting on top of him and wrapping it around his throat. He started strangling him as hard as he could. This made Murdoc jolt awake, gargling and pleading for Stuart to stop, even calling him by his real name instead of 2D or Faceache.

He stared into Murdoc's eyes, who now, instead of being filled with enmity, fury, impatience, and hellfire, were completely full of sorrow, helplessness, and just begging for mercy.

Stuart felt.. good. He felt alive. He kept strangling Murdoc with his belt as his sick gargling and gagging got worse. He suddenly remembered something the bassist had told him a long time ago.

Why can't you just be like me?

He sickly smiled looking down at Murdoc, who was now the crying, helpless one. "A-am I perfect now, Muds? Am I everything you've ever wanted me to be? Am I just like you now?! AM I?!" He strangled him even tighter with the belt, getting a disgusting rush of ecstasy from Murdoc being in pain. Murdoc gagged more like he was trying to speak. His hideous green face started slowly turning to blue.. then to purple.. then slowly, a pale green.

Murdoc was no more.

Stuart smiled as he saw his troubles were finally over. He never had to worry anymore. Everything was okay. He had a food supply now. Speaking of which, he needs to eat, doesn't he?

The singer happily smiled as he picked up Murdoc's left hand. He tore into his fingers like they were delicious chicken wings, crunching and devouring them quickly. He was very, very hungry. This wasn't going to satisfy his taste. He ripped apart Murdoc's hand entirely, disgustingly thick blood rushing down his arms. Stuart was so delighted by this.

He wanted to continue, and his hunger was pretty satisfied now, but noticed his own right hand was starting to decay. The open wound had got infected. Stuart couldn't go without a hand, now, could he? He furiously ripped Murdoc's other hand out of his arm, then started to gnaw his own hand off of his arm.

Once it finally fell off, he cried silently, but did not scream in pain. He just smiled. He picked up Murdoc's hand and stood up slowly, his arm gushing out blood. He looked around the Satanist's room and found some dark green thread and a needle.

He slowly sat down, and carefully, so carefully, sewed Murdoc's hand into the place where his should be. He smiled even wider, slowly standing up and walking back over to Murdoc and kneeling down right beside of his face.

"Am I perfect now, Murdoc?"

Author's note: This might be the end, it may not be. Idk honestly. I'm only 13, and this is my first creepypasta ever, so I'm very aware that it probably sucked, and I would absolutely love criticism. Also, Dennis, if you're reading this [ you know who you are ], thank you :D

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